by Mia Frances
She paused to look around. Alex couldn't leave without first doing something about the leavings. The rain and melting snow would eventually wash the blood away, but the rest of it had to be hidden in the woods. The last thing she needed was for someone to see it. Looking disgusted, but resigned to the fact that it had to be done, she rolled the carcass off the skin and went to begin the cleanup. She piled all the innards on her makeshift sled, then began kicking snow over the bloody puddles, but was useless; they were still visible. Deciding she was wasting time, Alex grabbed the skin and began dragging it toward the trees. A hundred feet in front of her was a huge pine tree, its boughs hanging low to the ground. She dumped her load and, using the skin to cover her hands, began pushing the bloody refuse beneath its branches, until only telltale smears of red remained.
Satisfied, her thoughts turned back to the stains in the clearing. Once the snow melted away, all evidence of her ever having been here would be erased. But that would take a while. For now, she'd have to camouflage the reddish pink splotches somehow. Her eyes swept the area, focusing on the mounds of brush that grew thickest near the edge of the tree line. Taking the hatchet from her belt, she began chopping at the bushes, collecting a large pile of branches. Bringing them back to the clearing, she poked them into the snow wherever there was blood. Creating what appeared to be clumps of low-growing hedges. She was pleased, even though her make-believe bushes were a bit scrawny. A little more filling out here and there and no one would be the wiser.
She turned her attention back to the bushes, looking for other likely prospects for her axe, when something blue flashed between the trees. Alex dropped face down into the wet snow and quickly yanked her gun from her shoulder. Panic gripped her as she stared straight ahead, waiting for it to reappear. Out in the open, she made too easy a target, her dark clothes outlined against the white background. She had to get to cover. Alex rose to her feet and, crouching low, began running toward the trees. She took refuge behind the trunk of one and, leaning against it, tried to catch her breath, her lungs straining for air. He hadn't opened fire yet. Maybe he wasn't armed. She was safe for the moment, the tree concealing her from whatever was out there. The seconds seemed endless. Petrified, she waited for the ominous sound of approaching footsteps, but all she heard was the pinging of falling rain. Alex gingerly peeked around the trunk. There was no sign of him, but she wasn't fooled; he was out there! She was sure of it! Alex pulled her head back. She'd have to wait him out, wait for him to show himself. There was no way to escape and nowhere to flee with him watching. Where would she go? Certainly not home, not with a stranger in the woods. As it stood now, she was pinned down. He held the woods, the rest was open ground. He was playing a game of cat and mouse with her. She had to flush him out. Right now she had no idea where he was, but she was pretty sure he knew where she was. She peered out again, looking for quivering branches, dark shadows amid the greens and browns. Seeing nothing, she raced to another tree a short distance away. He'd be expecting her to turn back, try to get away, but she was heading right for him. If the sound of gunfire had drawn him here, then perhaps the same thing would send him packing. Once she located his position, she'd fire a few rounds in his direction. That should make it perfectly clear to him that he wasn't welcome in these parts and send him hightailing back to wherever the hell he came from. She rushed ahead, darting from tree to tree, but couldn't help worrying about the carcass in the clearing. Maybe this was some sort of ruse to lure her away from her kill, keeping her occupied in the woods while he stole it. He could be circling around behind her at this very moment.
Alex suddenly halted, staring back toward the clearing, relieved to see that the deer was still where she'd left it. Even through the maze of trees, she could see it lying in the snow. Seeking cover behind a thick stand of pines, she paused to assess her situation. She must be just as easy to see, so why hadn't he picked her off when he had the chance? There was a rustling sound coming from the woods. Alex held her breath, then peeked out. The bottom branches of a large pine were being jostled. Something was crawling underneath them. It was the same tree she'd used to hide the deer's entrails; she could see traces of blood in the snow. Alex tried to get closer, zigzagging through the trees so he couldn't get a clear shot at her. Ice and snow crunched beneath her feet. There was no way she could surprise him. The rustling grew louder. Alex charged ahead, her attention focused on the tree. It was alive with movement, its branches clacking together, pine needles flying off in all directions. She lifted the gun and took aim, but didn't fire. A figure came scrambling out from beneath the boughs, eyes wild with fear. Trying to hold onto the bloody entrails, she struggled to her feet and began backing away, her terrified gaze fixed on the gun.
Alex gasped when she saw her face. She looked like a walking cadaver who'd been pulled from her grave. She was clothed in rags, her scab-covered hands protruding from the tattered sleeves of what had once been a sweater. A single strip of cloth was wrapped over her head to warm her ears, beneath it grey hair covered the scalp then changed to matted tangles of reddish brown. Her skin was wrinkled, lined by suffering and hardship, not age. She looked to be 60, but Alex suspected she was her age, maybe a little older.
Alex's eyes darted from tree to tree, searching for others. "Are you alone?"
Fixated on the gun and too frightened to speak, she didn't answer.
"Are you alone?" Alex repeated, impatient for an answer.
The figure trembled as she nodded.
Alex looked around again. Hearing no suspicious sounds, she decided she was probably telling the truth. She turned back to her and noticed she was concealing something in her fist, something dark and shiny. "Drop it," she commanded.
The woman just stared at her.
"Drop it now or I'll shoot! You either get rid of whatever's in your hand or you're dead!"
She dropped the meat and what appeared to be a steak knife.
"Back up!"
Shaking, she stepped back, the plastic bags wrapped around her feet making squishing noises in the wet snow.
"What are you doing here?" Alex demanded.
She didn't answer.
"Where do you come from?"
Again there was no response.
Alex sighed, lowering her weapon. She sensed the woman wasn't dangerous, just desperate. "I won't hurt you," she assured her.
The woman didn't appear convinced.
"You hunting for food?"
She nodded.
"You heard the shot and figured you'd cut yourself in, huh?"
She shook her head. "I was only going to take what you left behind, I swear it."
"That stuff's not safe to eat. It's probably contaminated with radiation. That's why I threw it away."
She seemed confused at first, then, understanding, began to weep.
"How long since you've eaten?"
"Three days. We were forced out of a place near Sabael. We escaped through the woods and found our way to an old cabin court."
"Wait! You're up the road, in one of the camps?" Those places were out in the open, strung along the blacktop one after another and easily seen. They were prime targets for roving bands of marauders.
"Yes."
"What are you doing down here, that's over five miles away?"
"Looking for something to eat." She reached into her pocket and produced a few withered berries. "There isn't anything left up there."
Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, Alex pulled her hunting knife from its sheath.
"What are you going to do with that?" she reacted nervously.
Alex searched for a likely looking tree, then, finding one, turned back to her. "I want to show you something. Come on," she said, walking away.
The woman, though suspicious, timidly followed. Alex stopped in front of a large birch and deftly began cutting away the outer bark.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting you something to eat," she said as she peeled back the inner layer and, cutting
it away from the trunk, handed it to her.
"What is it?"
"Birch bark. Go ahead, it's edible. It tastes better boiled, but it's not bad raw."
She brought it to her nose and sniffed. Looking dubious, she bit off a little then chewed and swallowed it.
"You can eat the inner bark of most of the trees that grow here: birch, pine, spruce, fir, beech, and maple. Since you haven't been living off the land, what have you been eating?"
"What we've been able to steal," she confessed. "Mostly canned goods from empty cabins around the lake, and hunting camps in the woods. Sometimes, when it's safe, we dig holes in the ice and fish. We had a sledgehammer and a hand drill," she said almost wistfully. "But we had to leave them behind when a squad of armed men came through and drove us out. We nearly starved until we found a dead deer that had fallen through thin ice at the edge of a creek. Her leg was broke, so she couldn't get out. The water froze around her, but we managed to chop enough ice away to drag her out. We ate her for a while, but haven't had much lately. Mostly just withered berries and grapes, and nuts when I can find them. We've managed. We're still alive. At least until now. My husband's pretty sick though, and he was the one that kept us going, always knew what to do," she sniffled.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He's sick with chills and fever. Coughing all the time. Pneumonia maybe."
"If you boil up some pine needles, strain it, and give it to him warm, it'll help ease his coughing and chest congestion; help him breathe. Willow bark from weeping willows, even pussy willows, will bring down a fever. You steep the bark in boiling water and have him drink it. It works the same as aspirin."
"Where'd you learn all that?"
"I read it in a book about trees. It's worth a try."
The woman nodded thoughtfully. "There's a weeping willow on a stream not far from us. And a pine tree right behind the cabin. "I'll make him some. Thank you!"
Alex returned to the big pine tree and without a word, began pushing the bloody guts under it. She looked back over her shoulder to see the figure sadly gazing at the entrails. She only hoped the woman wouldn't return for the tainted meat later. When she finished, she picked up the knife and walked away.
Alex started chopping the carcass up with her ax. She heard branches snapping behind her and saw the starving female standing at the edge of the clearing. She didn't come forward, just stood watching, like a penniless child, nose pressed against a sweet shop window, longing for something she couldn't have. Alex motioned her over.
She hesitated a moment, then slowly walked into the clearing.
Alex was struggling with a haunch, trying to sever it at the joint. She moved the leg back and forth, then began cutting through the meat and muscle with her knife, while the woman peered at her in confusion. "How many of you are there?" Alex asked.
"Just the two of us," she responded, her voice no louder than a whisper as she studied first the meat, then the butcher.
Alex paused to look at her. "What's your name?"
"Martha."
"I'm Alex," she said, turning back to her work. She continued hacking and sawing until the leg was finally severed from the rest of the carcass. It weighed ten or fifteen pounds. She got to her feet, and, holding it in her arms, handed it to Martha, along with the woman's knife. "Here," she said.
Martha was stunned. She hadn't dared hope. Hands shaking, she took the meat and tried to speak. All she could muster was a grateful, heartfelt, "Thank you!"
Alex nodded, then looked up. The sky was growing darker by the minute, the cold rain beating down on them. It was time to go.
"Take care, Martha." She waved as the dark, wraith-like figure disappeared from sight. Her hands and feet were freezing, her hair dripping wet, yet she felt strangely warm and at peace. For the first time in months, the world seemed less bleak. She tugged at the skin and began the trek home.
Chapter 22
Alex sat on the floor scrutinizing him, her eyes filled with loathing. She rubbed her ass cheek, still stinging from his slaps. His anger had been building ever since she'd gotten home. Seeing it coming, she'd sent the children to bed early. She'd never seen him so upset. Alex had hacked the rest of the deer up before going home, so he wouldn't realize that some of the meat was missing. Thank God she did! He'd been up and around when she'd come through the door, looking better then he had in days. The swelling and infection in his leg were subsiding, and the sight was slowly returning to his injured eye. He'd seemed fine. A bit irritable and out of sorts, but that was normal. He'd even been smiling when she came through the door. But as soon as he saw what she'd brought home, his mood turned foul. At first, he'd accused her of bringing home carrion. Then he claimed the animal must have been sick or dying. He refused to believe that she had the skill necessary to kill something healthy, something that wasn't lying half dead in the snow. He checked her gun, then examined the meat, poking and sniffing it, badgering her all the while to tell the truth. When she did, swearing to him that she'd taken it down with one shot, he called her a liar. He couldn't deal with the fact that she could fend for herself.
Wolf had insisted she learn how to hunt, sending her out into the woods every day to "bring home the bacon." But what he said and what he wanted were two entirely different things. She was supposed to fail, remaining forever dependent on him. He'd taken a certain amount of pleasure in seeing her drag herself through the door every night, weary and empty-handed, belittling her attempts at providing for them. Her failure was a daily reminder of how indispensable he was. Proof that her survival and that of the children hinged on him. But the subordinate scenario he envisioned for her had abruptly changed and he didn't like it one bit! Wolf hadn't cared when she brought bark, berries, and firewood home. In his world of well-defined roles, foraging was woman's work. But hunting, putting meat on the table? That was a man's job! He viewed her newfound skill as a hunter threatening. Undermining his role as breadwinner, provider, and head of the house. She'd threatened his fragile male ego. Made him feel less a man. Now, she was paying the price.
He'd sat glowering at her all evening; barking orders one after another, as though trying to assure himself that he was still in charge. Alex had endured his temper and verbal abuse, following his orders like a dutiful slave, but even that wasn't enough. She needed to be put in her place. Knocked down a peg or two. Shown who was boss.
Alex had done everything possible to appease him, but nothing worked. His indignation and resentment continued to grow with each passing hour. In the end, all it took was for her to inadvertently turn her back on him while he was talking to send him into a rage. He accused her of ignoring and disrespecting him. Wolf said he wouldn't tolerate that kind of behavior from her and pulled her across his knee to prove it. He bared her, raining down dozens of stinging slaps on her defenseless bottom. Wolf's calloused hand felt like a heavy paddle as it set fire to her backside. Overlapping handprints covering every inch of her ass. She whimpered as her pale posterior turned crimson under his painful ministrations. Alex tried to squirm off his lap, bringing her hands back to protect her vulnerable rear; but that just pissed him off more, resulting in a barrage of blows that left her thighs and bottom blazing. He kept spanking her even after she stopped struggling and went limp. He offered no mercy, demanding complete and utter surrender. Wolf ended her correction, as he called it, warning Alex she'd better lose the attitude or else! Fuck him!
Wolf lifted her off his thighs, stood up, and limped to a nearby stool. Grabbing it with one hand, he positioned it in front of the chair. He hobbled back and sat down, then pointed to the stool, indicating that she better sit her ass down on it pronto!
Alex blanched, wincing when her sore behind made contact with the hard wooden surface. He noted her discomfort and smiled; a good bottom warming was just what his wife needed. She watched him warily, flinching every time he shifted in the chair, wondering what he'd do next.
"Don't ever turn your back on me like that again. I won't be disre
spected," he scolded. You come strutting in here like you grew a set of balls. Thinking because you bagged one fucking deer you don't need me anymore. Well, think again!"
Alex clenched her teeth, glaring at him. Her tears and fear subsiding, as they yielded to anger.
"You figure since I've been laid up a while, that entitles you to take over, be the head honcho? Bullshit! I'm still the man of this house. I make the rules and wear the pants. Not you! Get that through your head once and for all. Bringing home one lousy deer doesn't make you my equal. You may think you've got a set of clankers, that you're some kind of self-reliant, fucking Amazon now, a real badass bitch, but I've got news for you…nothing's changed little girl, not one damn thing! Comprende?"
Though Alex meekly nodded her head, her eyes blazed with defiance.
Wolf studied her, shaking his head in frustration. No matter how many times he paddled her ass, she'd continue to test him. Sassy. Stubborn. Contrary. Fearless. Alex was a handful, but he wouldn't want her any other way. That's what kept her alive through all this, allowed her to survive when others perished. Wolf didn't want to break her spirit, just straighten her out a little. He wanted her trust, wanted her to rely on him, but she wasn't there yet. She was his partner, his wife! He'd put a ring on her finger. But she still refused to accept that he was her husband and head of the house now. Until she did, she'd be receiving regular, over-the-knee, bare-bottom attitude adjustments from him. Wolf didn't want to speak ill of the dead, but her first husband must have been a real wimp. From what little she'd told him, Alex had been a well-educated, successful career woman before the war. A ballbusting, card-carrying, Me Too movement, feminist whiner. Out there demonstrating and demanding her rights with the rest of the cranky bitches. The ones bent on cutting off the balls and emasculating every male who crossed their path. He couldn't believe her husband Matt let her get away with that shit. Wolf would have put a stop to that nonsense so fast it would have made her head spin. It was obvious Alex called the shots and wore the pants in her last marriage. Her previous husband had allowed Alex to do whatever the hell she pleased. Those days were gone for good. Theirs would be a very traditional, very old-fashioned marriage in every sense of the word. Wolf intended to take his wife in hand when necessary to keep her on the straight and narrow. "Come here," he ordered.
